Forks and Knives
by Restless Author
Summary: Irene (otherwise known as Snake) is reluctant to attend a dinner with her family, but everything changes for her when she meets a guy that somehow just keeps getting under her skin.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It was been WAY too long, guys, and for that, I'm sorry! So, here – have the first Snake story I've written in a long time (P.S, not her real name- her name is Irene. Not sure where the nickname came from – just popped into my head and so I stuck with it.), and it's multichapter. Let's see where it goes! The title is probably really weird but oh well, I've never been good with those. So, once more, I'm sorry for such a long, delayed hiatus, and I hope you guys enjoy the story!**

After lingering in the dirty bathroom for an abnormally large span of time, I slipped my phone out of my pocket and glanced at it, knowing I'd have to leave sooner or later and go rejoin my family at the dinner table. I reluctantly tucked my phone away and lingered for a few seconds more, staring at my face in the streaky glass mirror. Sure, I liked eating out as much as anyone (or at least preferred it to sitting on the couch with a TV dinner on my lap), but doing so as a part of 'family night' wasn't my idea of a good time.

Finally, after wrinkling my nose and making a face at my reflection, I ducked out of the bathroom and scanned the area for the table my family had picked. Muttering apologies to waiters and waitresses after having emerged from the bathroom directly in their little stream, I stepped away and glanced at the table my family was sitting at. My brow furrowed in confusion – the group had expanded.

A family of five surrounded the table. The woman holding the hand of the toddler was chatting joyfully with my mom, idle gossip floating from one mouth to the other. The uncomfortable looking father exchanged a couple of nonchalant, cursory words with mine, who looked just the same. My little sister, Izzy, was making an effort to start up a conversation with the younger son, who would mumble and mutter replies and shift his feet.

At my approach, the final 'visitor', a lanky teenage boy obviously making an attempt to look edgy with dark spiky hair and a shirt with ragged edges (and…eyeliner?) turned to glance at me.

I simply gave him a cursory nod, squeezing my way through the gathered group with a muttered, "Excuse me."

My mother looked up and her soft green eyes lit up. "Oh, great timing! This is my daughter, Snake," She beamed and slid over to make room for me. "Snake, these are the Heffley's, long-time friends of ours that we haven't seen since high school."

I gave them a cursory glance and smile. "Hi. Nice to meet you." The words felt stiff slipping from my lips.

"You, too. I'm Susan," The mother, a well-rounded woman with glasses and soft hair cascading around her shoulders, smiled at me kindly. "And this is Manny." She motioned to the little guy with reddish-brown hair at her side. He simply blinked at me with wide, doe-like eyes.

"I'm Frank," Frank nodded at me, looking (still) uncomfortable. I was grateful for the brief exchange.

"Greg," The younger one piped up in a mumble.

Sighing dramatically, his hands stuffed into his pockets, the older one lazily rolled his eyes towards me (as if it was such an effort to move his eyes, of all things). "Rodrick," He grunted.

I nodded and returned my gaze to the menu, relieved that interactions were over and hoping dearly they would leave soon so we could order and dine in relative peace.

But, of course, that didn't happen.

Instead my mom, being the gracious human being she is, offered a suggestion, "Hey, how about we all eat together, give us all a chance to catch up?"

"That's a brilliant idea!" Susan agreed, giving my mom a wide grin that was returned with equal fervor.

And so we flagged down a waitress, requested to move tables (her eyes flickered with annoyance and I related), and did so, all of us settling down at a longer table instead of a booth, our families on either sides of the table – Frank, Susan, Manny, Greg, and Rodrick on one side, and my dad, my mom, Izzy, and I on the other. As soon as we sat I immediately picked up a menu and rifled through it, not really paying attention to the conversations surrounding me.

"Isn't that right, Snake?"

"Huh?" My mom's voice shattered my focus of not focusing and I dropped the menu to blink at her.

"You were just as short as Izzy is now in freshman year, and then when you became a sophomore, you just rocketed away," Mom remarked with a fond smile.

Jesus. "Uh, yeah." I quickly lifted the menu and shielded my face with it, unsubtly telling her I wanted no part in her stories. But my (relative) aloneness didn't last long; Izzy poked her head over my shoulder.

"Whatchya getting?"

I slowly lowered my menu again; couldn't a girl look for something to eat in peace? "I don't know." My words were slow, emphasizing impatience. "Maybe a burger."

"Really? A burger?" Izzy's brow furrowed. "I'd have thought since, y'know, this place is so fancy you'd have ordered something different."

I frowned at her – who was she to be criticizing my food choices? I'd originally been looking at something like ribs, but now I was gonna order a burger just to spite her. Maybe I'd add a milkshake and a side of fries. "Why don't you bug off and just worry about what YOU'RE going to eat?"

She returned my frown, pretending hurt (she wasn't nearly so sensitive as she pretended to be and she knew I knew it). "Don't be so mean, Snake." She forced her lips out in a pout. "I'm just trying to talk to you."

"By talking you mean criticizing," I returned dryly and folded my menu, setting it in front of me and glancing up only to see Rodrick looking at me.

I reacted instantly, almost visibly bristling. I didn't like being looked at. "What're you looking at?"

Rodrick said nothing and simply smirked condescendingly, instantly making me want to lean across the table and smack it off of his face. "Nothin'."

I was about to respond with something witty (perhaps "Oh, yeah?") when Izzy nudged me and shot me a meaningful look before leaning over to whisper in my ear, "He's cute."

I pulled away and stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head. "What are you talking about?"

She smirked at me (what was with everybody smirking tonight?) and waggled her eyebrows like a vaudeville villain. Her eyes flitted from me, to him, then back to me, trying to convey a message, and I got it.

I scowled darkly at her. "Don't even."

She fluttered her eyelashes innocently. "Don't even what?" She noted the intensity of my scowl and dropped the act. "Oh, c'mon, why are you so grumpy all the time? Aren't you even capable of smiling?"

"Sure I am," I replied sarcastically, fixing an all-too-cheery and plastic smile across my face. "See?"

"That's creepy," Izzy grinned. "Nevermind, forget what I said – scowling looks better on you."

I dropped the smile and rolled my eyes, though the corners of my lips twitched. I noticed, from the corner of my eye, that he was looking at me AGAIN. Now any trace of amusement vanished and I returned a frosty glare. "Seriously. What's your problem?"

"The twerp's right. A scowl does look good on you," Rodrick smirked (there was no other way to describe the crescent shaping of his lips).

It was instinctive to return his smirk with a scowl and I automatically passed a hand through my hair, suddenly and bewilderingly aware of how mussed it was. "Well, gee," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks. That's something every girl loves to hear."

Rodrick leaned back in his chair, studying me with a scrutinizing gaze that made me feel like an animal in a glass cage. I furrowed my brow at him again – what was wrong with him? "Don't you know staring is impolite?" I muttered, my hands toying with my napkin.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Like I could care less." He paused and his smirk blossomed again. "Doesn't seem to bother you, the way you're staring right back at me."

I blinked in surprise. "What? I'm not staring," I glowered at him. "I don't know about you, but I like to maintain eye contact when I'm talking with someone."

He opened his mouth to retort when a gentle nudge from Izzy distracted me and I looked up to see the waiter looking down at me with a bemused expression. "What would you like to drink, miss?"

"Oh. Sorry. Just a Sprite." I looked down at my fingers and forcibly released the napkin before I tore it to shreds and instead began to fiddle with my fork, twirling it around absentmindedly.

"I'll have what the lady is having."

I looked up at him, bewildered yet again, and our eyes met – his chocolate and full of electricity. I exhaled slowly, my irritation building, and shoved back away from the table, drawing my eyes away from his. "Excuse me, I think I need some air," I muttered, scooting away from the table and weaving my way through others, leaving his smirk and confident eyes far, far behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Nothin' really to say except for enjoy this next chapter and I don't own Diary of a Wimpy Kid.**

As soon as I got outside, I sat down at the curb, pinching the bridge of my nose and rubbing at my eyes. I was still festering with irritation, but it wasn't solely with Rodrick or my family – it was more or less aimed towards myself. Now, normally I wasn't one of those smiley, happy-go-lucky types of people, sure, but something was up tonight. Rarely did people get under my skin so much and so persistently, and I was sure they weren't doing it on purpose. I could only assume there was something wrong with me, but I couldn't pinpoint what, and that only egged my frustration on.

I was prepared to put my head in my arms and fume in my irritation when I heard the door open behind me. Footsteps headed my way and I didn't bother looking up – I could smell the soft floral scent of perfume and knew it was my mom. She settled herself down next to me (with a barely perceptible grunt) and glanced over at me, her eyes boring into the side of my face. "Look at me, Irene."

I winced and turned my head to face her. She only used my real name when she was about to talk about something serious. I blinked in surprise when my eyes landed on her face – she'd never looked so old before. She had crow's feet lining the edges of her eyes and laugh lines permanently etched into her forehead. She looked…tired. "Is everything alright with you?" She kept her gaze firmly pinned on mine. "You seem more irritable than ever."

"Yeah. And I'm sorry." I dropped my gaze back to the dirty asphalt of the parking lot. "I don't know what's wrong. Everything and everyone just seems to keep getting under my skin tonight…"

My mother raised an eyebrow knowingly, which brought my eyes flickering back onto her face. "Everyone, or someone?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"That Rodrick boy. You two seemed to be goading each other." Mom smiled. "It seems like he's the only one getting under your skin – you haven't snapped at us at all tonight."

I grimaced again – the way she said it made me feel guilty, like I snapped at them all the time. "I guess so. He's just irritating. He kept staring at me and making comments and….I dunno."

"Maybe you two need to actually talk," She suggested. "Instead of making snarky little comments to one another."

I laughed dryly and gave her a look. "You think that'll help?"

She shrugged. "You never know." My mom, the optimistic. "But whatever's going on, you should come back in." Her smile was soft and she got to her feet with another groan and extended a hand to me.

I took it, got to my feet, and was swept into a soft hug. Feeling like a little kid, I returned the hug, and we split to head back inside the restaurant.

She gave me a look as we sat down at our spots and I nodded reluctantly, glancing over at Rodrick, who was busy picking at his teeth unsubtly. I pursed my lips, musing for a minute – how to start a conversation like this? 'Hey, nice teeth,' or 'you missed a spot'? I settled for the easiest, "Hey."

He blinked and looked at me, one eyebrow quirking. "Are you actually talking to me, Your Highness?"

I resisted the urge to scowl darkly, though my hands tensed up on my lap. "Yes, I am, believe it or not. I'm trying to start an actual conversation here."

"That's new," He smirked and leaned back in his chair, picking up his drink and slurping obnoxiously at it.

I glanced at his younger brother, who was preoccupied with scribbling on his napkin. "Is he always this obnoxious?"

Greg blinked up at me and nodded. "Yeah."

Now it was Rodrick's turn to scowl and I felt a certain thrill in seeing him do so. "Shut up."

I grinned. "Yes sir, your Obnoxiousness."

He glowered at me with no trace of a smirk on his lips. "Shut it."

I finally chuckled and held my hands up defensively. "Alright, alright, whatever you say." I rolled my eyes and reached for my drink. Before I could sip at the straw, however, I noticed that his lips had returned to their previous form and I immediately narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. "What did you do?"

"What, ME?" Rodrick said innocently. "Nothing."

"I'm sure," My eyes narrowed even further and I dared to take a sip of my drink. Nothing came up the straw and I frowned, sucking harder, only to inhale a great amount of what tasted like ketchup mixed with Sprite. I spluttered and coughed, jerking my soda away from me, my throat constricting as I gagged.

Rodrick burst into laughter. "That never gets old."

"How old are you, five?" I spat, snatching up a napkin and rubbing my tongue with it (probably not the best of ideas). So much for trying to be civil with this guy, I mused irritably, rolling up the napkin into a crumbled ball. I quickly removed the straw from my drink, only to discover that the end was wedged into a soaked ketchup packet. I scowled – now my Sprite was ruined. Despite that, however…I'm sure my reaction must have been pretty funny. And it was a clever idea…not that I'd tell him that. I simply grunted, plucked the packet from my straw, unfolded the napkin, and refolded it with the packet inside. I moved my soda away from me and shot him a look. "Thanks for that."

Before he could reply, Izzy reached for my soda eagerly. "Hey, can I have a sip?"

I opened my mouth to warn her, reconsidered, and grinned – what was a little joke between two siblings? I shot Rodrick a look – he was grinning just like I was and he gave me a barely perceptible nod. I resisted the urge to snicker childishly and simply said, "Yeah, sure. It's kinda flat anyways." Despite the fact that I'd removed the packet from the straw, the soda was sure to taste odd anyways.

"Thanks." She gave me a puzzled look and slurped happily at the straw. As soon as the liquid entered her pursed lips, she froze, her eyebrows shot up, and she shoved the soda away from her, gagging. "Ewwww! What was THAT?"

I couldn't help bursting into laughter – if my face had looked like what Izzy's did now, I honestly couldn't be too mad at Rodrick for laughing at me. To my utter surprise, he joined me, and he lifted his hand for a high-five that I unthinkingly gave him.

Izzy looked at me, her tongue dangling between her lips, her eyes wide. "What was that?" She repeated firmly, her voice lisped.

"Sprite, of course," Recovering from my bout of laughter I blinked innocently.

"No, it wasn't," She glowered at me, moving her curly brown bangs away from her face. "It tasted DISGUSTING!"

"Oh, well, blame him," I jerked a thumb towards Rodrick, donning a smirk of my own. "He added a secret special ingredient: ketchup."

"Oh, ew," Izzy muttered, reaching for her own drink and tossing it down eagerly in order to get rid of the unpleasant taste. "That wasn't very nice," Once finished, she glared at me.

"Oh, come on," I smiled. "It was just a joke."

She eyed me suspiciously, studying my face. I knew the smile was odd but I couldn't help it. Her reaction had been hilarious. "Whatever," She declared finally, turning away from me with a huff.

I turned back to Rodrick, cupping a hand over my mouth to stifle the remnants of my snickers. "Okay, Heffley, I gotta give that one to you."

"Duh. It works on pretty much everyone." He rolled his eyes and leaned over the table, resting on his elbows. "Including family members."

"I'll have to remember that one. But now I have to get a new drink…and I won't leave the table this time," I leered at him.

"Whatever. It'd be stupid to pull the same thing twice. You gotta give me more credit than that," Rodrick rolled his eyes again, still smirking, but pushed away from the table. "Gotta piss like a racehorse," was all he said before he vanished among the other diners.

"Classy," I muttered, but inwardly I was singing at the opportunity. I could already see the waiter heading towards us, awkwardly balancing a tray full of food (I assumed somebody had ordered a burger for me) and delivering it to us. I waited impatiently as he gave everyone their foods and left with a nod and a smile after being reassured that we were all set.

I immediately reached for the salt and pepper shakers, ignoring the tantalizing smell of my own food, and grabbed Rodrick's plate (he'd ordered a burger too). I lifted the top bun, sprinkled a heavy, HEAVY layer of pepper on top, set it back on the patty, and did the same to the bottom bun, this one with salt. It wasn't as clever as his ketchup-in-a-straw trick, but it would do, and I quickly shoved his plate back into position with a smirk, setting the shakers aside. I swiftly glanced up the table, hoping nobody had noticed, and was relieved to see that they were all immersed in conversation.

My eyes were drawn to Frank when he glanced at Rodrick's food. "Oh, oops. I think they gave Rodrick my order." He passed his plate of ribs down and received the burger instead, and, with my heart pounding, I watched in growing horror as he lifted the burger to his mouth, prepared to sink his teeth in.


End file.
